Rendezvous Berlin
by lyo24boi
Summary: 'Decisions Made by Hurt and Hope, Part 2' - Isaac travels to Europe in search of his brother who, up until recently, he believed to be dead.
1. Chapter 1

**| Rendezvous Berlin |**

"_Isaaaaaac!"_

Isaac awoke with a startle and a jerk as the plane touched down at Charles de Gaulle. He felt sweat perspiring at his hairline, the desirous summon still haunting him two sleeps later. He looked over at Colette, magazine still in hand as the plane began to near the terminal.

"Sleep well?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the words on the page.

Isaac didn't answer, leaning forward to collect his things back into his backpack. He shoved his jacket in first, slipping his headphones and bottle of water in after in a not-so-delicate, almost frustrated sort of way.

"I take that as a no," Colette remarked, looking quite relaxed in her seat as the plane came to a halt so the ramp could extend and connect with the plane.

Isaac glared up at her before leaning back into his seat and unbuckling the belt around his waist. She looked at him sharply, challenging him to say whatever was on his mind. The werewolf only glared back at her until the sign above them _binged_ and the seatbelt sign went off. Immediately, _clacks_ all throughout the cabin could be heard and people began to stand, rummaging around and engaging in conversation with other members of their parties.

The blonde French woman next to him stood up and grabbed her leather book-bag from the overhead compartment before stepping back to allow him to get out in front of her. The pair departed as slowly as the rest of the passengers, having to stop and wait now and then for some family or some passenger who was, of course, a beat behind everyone else. Once they found their way off the ramp, through the terminal, and passed customs, Colette finally spoke again. "Are we not talking still?"

"I'm just going through some shit," Isaac said rather gloomily.

"You could have stayed," she offered.

Isaac shook his head.

"You still love him, no?"

"I do. I never stopped. I just…I love my brother, too. I need to find him." 

"So cheer up, sad wolf. We find your brother. You go home to your love."

"If it were only that easy," Isaac mumbled, thinking back to the pictures he'd seen around the apartment.

Of course Scott had moved on…and he should have. Isaac had been messed up beyond repair—at least _he_ thought so. Guilt and loss were two very powerful emotions, and when combined, form a very dangerous emotional and psychologically damaging, all-consuming cocktail. It was only until a month ago that something pulled him out of it. Some new piece of information found its way to him that renewed his sense of purpose, that drew him out of his lethargic hole that was even too consuming that made even taking his own life too much of a task: Word had come that Camden was alive after all.

…_some few hours later after arriving in Berlin by high speed rail…_

"Remind me again why we didn't fly right into Berlin?" Isaac said as he and Colette stepped off the S-Bahn at Hackescher Markt. He looked groggily through the clear glass ceiling, the dark night sky the only thing noticeable what with the obstructing lights.

"Paris is a holy city for hunters," Colette offered. "And I needed this," she said annunciating her intention towards the duffle in her hand by raising it once.

Isaac glanced at the motion, noting the duffle bag he hadn't seen until they were in Charles de Gaulle. He glanced at her, Colette smirking at him before walking down the stairs to the street level. After passing through Brussels and Cologne, their ICE train stopped at Spandau and, for them, finally at Hauptbahnhof; from there, it was a mere few stops to the plaza.

"So, this is where we're meting your contact?" Isaac asked when they stopped in front of a small Italian-style restaurant.

"Mmhmm," she acknowledged, looking up at the 'Osteria Tarantina' sign hanging above the entrance. She crouched down and lifted three things out of the duffle: two wired gloves and what appeared, on its face, to be a 9mm.

"Are those necessary?" Isaac said, looking from her, to the restaurant, and back to her, his eyebrow raised and a slight smirk on his face.

"Are you going to ask questions or do you want to find your brother?" she said pointedly, throwing the duffle back over her shoulder.

"Fair enough," he said, flicking his hand down as his claws popped out. Together they walked shoulder-to-shoulder towards the restaurant, clearly closed at this point in the night. Colette, however, knew the tricks around any locks and forced the door with ease, leaving no trace of any forced entry. They crept through the peachy-orange front of the house, the staff gone by now. Colette led them into the back and towards a particular wooden door that appeared to have not been open for some time. However, with a single tug, it creaked open.

Isaac immediately heard movement and Colette fired a round into the darkness. The seeming-omega was expecting a gunshot to resound throughout the restaurant, and even into the street, yet clearly the mercenary he'd hired had been wielding something far more sophisticated as it shot and electrified dart-like device square into the chest of an oncoming werewolf. They stepped around, entering further into the darkness, Isaac's golden eyes providing little light for his guide, the infrared abilities of them certainly suffice for him.

In but a few steps they were forced to walk down a short wooden steep staircase, leading them underground as the ground declined further and further as it curved. After a few moments, they found a grated doorway which Isaac was forced to remove with his superhuman strength. A few steps up and they found themselves into another hallway, which Colette followed into an abandoned office basement, where they found—through another door—an underground club. Smoke. Music. Dancers. It had the aura of being something found in an eastern European club where nothing good could come out of it except the seven deadly sins.

"Colette," came an accented voice from the side as they stopped a few feet beyond the door. The blond woman turned to see a man she clearly recognized, smiling at his rugged and scarred face.

"Michel," she greeted, pronouncing it like 'Michelle' with a French twist.

"How are you, my dear?" he asked, stepping up to her as they exchanged physical greetings.

"Busy," she answered, mildly jerking her head back towards Isaac.

"I see, I see. Are you looking for Jurgen?"

She nodded, glancing slightly to her right as two very tall and buff men walked beyond the crowd and towards the three at the entrance. "_Herren_," she acknowledged, her grip tightening on her custom firearm.

"Madame Dráme, Jurgen is expecting you," one of them announced, ready to apprehend her should she make any sudden moves or even make a run for it. However, she only nodded and motioned for Isaac to follow, the werewolf glancing at Michel once before tailing the three bodies through the crowd, his nose picking up on all sort of foreign smells—generally and species-wise. They followed through the mosh to a guarded door, and from there through a second guarded door where they found a man behind a desk with two bodyguards standing at ease behind him.

The dark brunette man behind the desk—who Isaac presumed was this Jurgen—was clean shaven with a comb-over that was obviously covering for some visible balding spots. His left eye was clouded over, and as Isaac focused in closer, he realized the eye was fake. But more stand-out than Jurgen was the bodyguard to the man's right: Isaac could recognize the face of Jackson Whittemore anywhere.


	2. Chapter 2

**| Part 2 |**

"Colette, my dove," Jurgen began in a thick German accent, standing behind his desk and throwing his arms out before clasping them together. "How are you, how are you?"

"Busy, Jurgen," she answered with a flare of attitude.

"I hope it is good business," he answered, looking expectantly.

"Productive only if my money is ready," she answered back, gripping her gone ever so slightly more.

"Now, now, we would not want to embarrass your guest, would we?" he said, picking up on the subtle motion. She only smirked back at him and, after a slight stare-down, the German put up his hands before him and grinning. "Still as feisty as ever, my dove." She rolled her eyes as he reached under his desk, Colette's heartbeat speeding until he rose back up with a metallic briefcase. "Your turn," he challenged, not yet revealing its contents.

She started to reach into her bag when Jackson's audible whisper entered Isaac's ears clear as if he were standing right next to him. "Lahey."

"Jackson," Isaac replied, equally as quiet, catching Jackson's gaze from across the room.

"Long way from Beacon Hills," he continued, his tone almost a question.

"A lot's happened," the taller man only said.

Jackson didn't say anything at first, leaving Isaac to wonder how much he knew about their former circle over the last several years. Isaac had had some difficulty keeping tabs on things, Argent filling him in when he became informed himself, and Melissa, bless her heart, called him every once in a while (although Scott didn't tell her much so that was limited as well). "What're you doing in Berlin? Derek kick you out?" Curiosity answered.

"Not quite," Isaac said, stopping for a moment, contemplating whether he should fill him in on a few things, or just keep it business. "I'm looking for my brother."

"I thought he was—"

"So did I."

"Supernatural?"

Isaac only nodded. "What're you doing here? Last I heard you were in London."

Jackson shrugged almost unnoticeably. "Pay's good," he admitted. "Jurgen prefers the protection of the supernatural and my pack…well it didn't work out with them."

"Never thought you woulda' fit in anyway," Isaac said with a smirk. Jackson couldn't help himself but pop that asshole-smirk as well, Isaac noting that it hadn't changed one bit.

"So, Mr. Lahey, is it?" Jurgen said, smiling up at the curly blonde. Isaac froze for a split second when his focus shifted back to the task at hand; he nodded and took a step forward, his body stiffening a little. "My dove has shown me the photo you received. I do not know this man, but I do see the resemblance. The city behind him, that is _Bukarest_ in _Rumänien_. Colette, here, knows this. But the man with him, that is why you are here. That is Barış Kızılok, a werewolf I would like not encounter ever again. A gangly, nasty sort of man with a temper that gives him a taste for blood. And the other man, who they are speaking with, that is Pitti Dubnic. He is one of the oldest werewolves I know. A Romani alpha and my friend for many years."

"Where can I find these two men?" Isaac asked.

"Kızılok is a hired-fang—his allegiances change often. But Pitivo, you can find him on the outskirts of _Bukarest_, in the ghettos of sector five. Walk into the slums, walk amongst people, and his pack should find you easy enough. If you decide to see him, you must bring two things, though: the first, you must bring your barren soul. Pitivo is a man of many worlds and many lives…he will want to see your heart."

"And the other?" Isaac asked, unimpressed and unenthused to meet such a superstitious man.

"A bottle of scotch," Jurgen answered with a smile.

Colette smirked but Isaac remained unimpressed, but still task-oriented. "And knowing your friend, what kind of scotch would he enjoy the most?" But as soon as he asked the question, his eyes immediately fell upon a half-empty bottle of Johnny Walker Black on the display to the right and Isaac immediately had his answer. "Thank you for your help," Isaac said, turning to leave.

"One more thing, _Herr_ Lahey," Jurgen said, forcing the younger man to turn only his head to face him. "I know of your history. I know of the Hales. Where you come from. Of _your_ 'true alpha.'" Isaac wasn't sure how much the man was telling him he knew, but he decided against pressing it—favoring waiting and seeing. "The hunt you are beginning: it is nothing you have encountered in California. This is 'Old Europe,' _jungen Wolf_. Here, in the darkness, lies all the magic and monsters and horror you have only ever found in your fairy tales. Now, find your brother and return home to your alpha; I believe your guilt has kept you from him long enough punished you sufficiently, no?"

Isaac's face furrowed, stepping forward once towards Jurgen again to press the matter when Colette stepped towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder to shepherd him out of the office. He wouldn't budge at first, clearly bothered by the personal insight in part of the other man, but one cautioning motion from the other bodyguard—the other _werewolf_—behind the strange man. His eyes flashed blue and Colette took that as the sign to press Isaac further, using her second hand to pat the man's stomach before pressing against it. Isaac peered over at Jackson and his former school-, team-, and packmate's face cautioned against any further action. The questing wolf resigned and allowed Colette to guide him back out into the club. They made to leave, Colette a little more hurried, not even stopping to bid Michel farewell. But as they got to the club's entrance, a hand grasped onto Isaac's shoulder, pulling him around.

Isaac turned to meet his disturber with yellow eyes and fangs, claws at the ready before he realized it was Jackson. Immediately, his features reverted and the adopted Whittemore son only smirked at him, clearly unimpressed. "It's only me, Lahey," Jackson started before glancing at Colette. "Jurgen has a request."

"What is that?" Colette asked amusedly and skeptically.

"He wants me to go with you," he answered after looking back at Isaac.

"Go with us?" Isaac mused, his tone just as his hired help's. "Why—"

"There's an errand I need to run, that's all you need to know."

The pair eyed him carefully, Isaac holding his tongue as Jackson's heartbeat seemed to indicate that there was more to it than just the errand. "Fine," Isaac agreed, the other werewolf only barely noticeably relaxing, his naturally blue eyes contracting from their dilation. Colette tapped Isaac on the arm after looking Jackson over and led them from the hidden underground establishment.

"Have you been to Bucharest before?" Colette asked their new companion as they made their way back towards the S-Bahn.

"Once," Jackson answered. "With Jurgen. We had some business in Budapest and he decided visit this Pitivo character."

"You've never met him?" Isaac asked.

Jackson shook his head, his skin twisting awkwardly against the tight black collar of his shirt. "I stayed with the taxi."

"You are in for a treat, both of you," Colette added, grinning.

"Why? What's he like?" Isaac said.

"Old Pitivo is a story teller. Most gypsies are, but Pitivo is a master amongst them."

"Do you think he can help?"

"We will see. He is very cryptic man and his stories even more so. But knowing Pitivo, and his reach across Europe…Jurgen has steered us right."

…_later that night on the next train, this time headed for Bucharest, Romania…_

They'd been sitting in silence—a somewhat awkward silence—since Colette fell asleep in their compartment. Isaac sat on the same makeshift sofa as the mercenary, her head fallen back against the wall and the top of the seating, while Jackson sat across from them, both young men staring out the same window into the darkened sky. With as many years at it had been, it was no surprise to either of them, and even more so given their animus relationship when they first knew each other.

"Can I ask you something?" Jackson finally said, not tearing his eyes away from the mobile scenery in their sights.

"Shoot," Isaac said, doing the same.

"When you got upset at the end of the meeting, when Jurgen said some weird things to you…what did he mean?"

"You really haven't kept in touch with Beacon Hills, have you?" Isaac pointed, bringing Jackson's dimly lit face in his sights.

The dirty blonde looked at him guiltily before looking back out the window. "Not really. Didn't really feel the need to."

"Lydia?"

Isaac's senior-beta only shrugged. "After I moved, she wanted to let me go properly. We didn't know when we'd see each other again…_if_ we would…so we never contacted each other. And Danny…that was probably my fault. The end of that summer after I moved, that was probably the last I heard from him. I didn't…yeah, I didn't respond to him. Forgot." His heart skipped and Isaac's face showed that he knew the boy across was lying. "Okay, I didn't want to, honestly. I wanted to let it all go. I even moved out of my parents' flat within a few months."

"You moved out or they bought you a place?" Isaac mused, smirking.

Jackson only shook his head and snorted. "Fine, Lahey," he said with a smirk, taking the jab. "So what's your story? Why was Jurgen being so cryptic?"

"I don't know all of it, to be fair. I left before Thanksgiving that same year. I…" But Isaac found himself unable to bring out the words. For so long he'd been working on burying it…forgetting it. That tale of his last few months in Beacon Hills…it was everything to him, and yet it was the most painful.

"What?" Jackson said, noting the obvious pain in the curly blonde across from him.

"It'…like I said before, a lot's happened. I…" Isaac took a deep breath and closed his eyes, willing his throat and eyes to keep it together just this once. "I'm not in Europe just because I'm looking for my brother. I moved to France so I could forget everything, mostly the night Allison died…"


	3. Chapter 3

**| Part 3: Interlude |**

When Isaac finished his tale, Jackson had moved from his relaxed position to sitting forward with his forearms resting on his knees and upper thighs. Isaac had told him how the pack of alphas Derek had told Jackson about actually came. He told him how two of them tried to ensnare Danny and Lydia, while Erica and Boyd died in the ensuing craziness of their arrival. He told him how Gerard was still alive and was still for all he knew, how it was Argent that had basically confined him to their apartment. He told him of how the war between Derek's pack and the hunters had evaporated with the arrival of the Alpha Pack and the _darach_, how Argent and Allison had become their greater allies in the struggle.

And then he told him how Lydia was revealed to be a banshee and how Derek gave up his alpha powers to save his sister and the two of them left to return to Peru, and how, at the same time, Scott had ascended to become a true alpha in the fight against the 'dark oak.' Jackson shifted uncomfortably, clearly taken aback and slightly irked by the news of Scott's further rise of prowess. _That's who Jurgen's been talking about every time he's mentioned the 'true alpha.'_ Isaac filled him in about the dark ritual Allison, Scott, and Stiles performed concerning the _nemeton_, and told him that ever since Beacon Hills has been changed in unknowable and dangerous ways. And Isaac took a chance, telling Jackson that after the death of Jennifer and the disbandment of the Alpha Pack, that he and Scott actually got together.

"You and McCall?" Jackson had mused very high school-like, his eyebrow raising and an almost cruel smirk widening across his lips.

Isaac had ignored him, explaining that Derek had already kicked him out, that he'd been living with Scott and Melissa, and that even before then he'd felt a kinship with Scott since he'd first become a werewolf. When he moved in, that's when things—his feelings—started to morph into something deeper and intimate (and as he was explaining all this, Isaac was struck with two things: the first, he was surprised at himself, that he was elaborating on his feelings for Scott to Jackson, the one person who could and likely still did hate Scott McCall. And second, at how quickly and powerfully his emotions for the wondrous boy returned, stricken like a match suddenly set ablaze. He still loved Scott. He'd never truly let that go, but he'd buried it. And now, suddenly, it was back with incredibly force!).

Isaac explained how Derek came back and started serving as Scott's mentor and Deaton for Stiles, training him as a druid. But things were all wrong and his—Isaac's—and Scott's relationship got put on hold, the darkness from their ritual coming between them and affecting their two friends as well. And he elaborated on the awkward and then new girl Kira, who joined their pack as a _kitsune_. He talked about the twins and his distrust of them (which, since Aiden's death, he'd let go and later explained that to Jackson when he got to that part). And he explained the strange attacks by the _oni_, and how they were looking for a dark spirit, a _nogitsune_, which they found in Stiles.

And that's when his story quickly became stuck in the base of his throat. At that point, they were communicating as old friends and Jackson was having no holds on the gripping story. He urged Isaac to continue, even offering some comforting words and a sympathetic face. Isaac eventually continued and explained how, while he himself had been rendered unconscious by this possessed Stiles, Scott and Lydia freed Stiles of this spirit temporarily before its avatar kidnapped Lydia. And when they went to rescue Lydia, it seized control of the _oni_. And when it seized control of the _oni_, it attacked, in force.

Isaac paused there, flipping back to how Scott had placed Isaac on a sort of guard detail on Allison. How, despite the odd triangle of past and then present relationships, Scott still cared enough about Allison despite his love for his then boyfriend. He explained that Isaac grew to truly consider Allison a friend, and that despite being forced together under bizarre and awkward circumstances, he wanted to protect her as part of their pack regardless.

So when the _nogitsune_ assailed Allison, Kira, and himself outside the old internment encampment, and he faced certain death with only Scott on his mind, and how Allison had saved him with her silver arrow, her violently and bloody stabbing was a blow to a piece of his psyche and his heart. He, with great struggle, explained that it had happened right in front of his eyes, and that she died in Scott's arms whispering her love for him in her last words. Isaac quickly moved away from that after a moment of reliving the horror in his mind. He moved on to the _nogitsune's_ defeat and Aiden's death and Ethan's departure.

And that's when he left, leaving with Chris for France to bury the captured _nogitsune_ in a safe secluded location under the hunters' protection and to escape the nightmare land that plagued him. Jackson wanted to ask about Scott, clearly okay with them as Danny had been his best friend once. But Isaac answered before the question even verbalized. He described that he had been screwed up immensely with the loss around him: his brother, mother, father. Erica, Boyd, Allison. Even Aiden. And with the exception of the former two, how violent and unnecessary they'd been. And so, despite his love for the true alpha, it wasn't enough to keep him from falling into the trap where, at the time, nothing could prevent him from sinking into his self-learned isolation combined with immense and total loss, guilt, and nightmares. In a way, his mind had built its _own_ protective freezer around himself.

Isaac ended explaining that in his saner-clearer moments from his lethargy, he accepted news from back home. Chris had provided the bulk of what little he received before he returned temporarily. His former enemy had returned with news of the dead pool, of Kate's apparent return (and that she'd never died), of Peter and Derek's deaths, and of Scott's two new packmates—Malia and Liam. Isaac had spoken Liam's name with haste and ill-conceived disgust, though Jackson didn't push it. He figured things from there.

Isaac explained that Melissa kept in touch with him now and then, but that it was awkward and had been reduced to email over time rather than their former Skype sessions. He explained that he'd faked his death to escape even further, from the remaining tethers in the form of Chris, Melissa, and those supernaturally-aware friends he'd made in Paris. But then, when only two days later, the picture of Camden's likeliness appeared under his new door in Amsterdam. That's when he decided to give Scott hope that he was still alive, as Isaac had found his own renewed hope and drive for life.


	4. Chapter 4

**| Part 4 |**

**Author's Note**: To kick off my 5x09 countdown, stay tuned for the completion of "Rendezvous Berlin" with the last two chapters tomorrow night and then Moon Monday night after the episode. Also check out my new Sceo fic as part of this countdown, "Suffer It All."

* * *

After the train to Bucharest, Jackson, who'd matured since his emigration from California and America, found a new understanding and appreciation of Isaac Lahey. Of his insanely hard life. Of his loss in persons both in death and in love. Of his drive to find a piece of his past, of that inseparable bond of brothers that Jackson himself was never fortunate enough to experience.

Most of all, he found a friend in him.

So when they walked through the seasoned streets of the capital's sector five, Jackson was on a higher alert than he had been in years. Certainly, Jurgen had been his patron, but Isaac, in this moment where they stood out as Americans all too well, he needed Jackson. Colette did her best to look as inconspicuous as well, providing their three persons with longer hooded coats, but their fair skin and lighter hair gave them away to anyone who was looking. And looking they were.

As the trio delved deeper and deeper into the ghetto, the werewolves' hearing picked up whispers and movement to the side. There was jumping and running and threats. It quickly became clear that Jurgen had told them a half-truth: Dubnic's pack _had_ found them…but it was increasingly clear that 'found' was not an apt description, where 'stalk' or 'hunt' may have been more suitable to the danger they found themselves in.

Ahead, on one of the corners, a younger woman with fairer skin and brown hair eyed them closely. She subtly beckoned them to follow and, without heed to the danger, Colette obliged, forcing the two werewolves behind her to exchange nervous looks. This woman led them down an even more ruined alleyway and the movement and muttering only became louder, rising and rising until they found themselves into a more secluded clearing behind the building where a number of onlookers glared and snarled. They found themselves surrounded, their entrance quickly blocked by several burlier gypsies.

The three acted quickly, simultaneously shedding themselves of their coats. Isaac and Jackson took up staging positions for the coming fight, their transformed features not unique amongst the crowd. Colette stood ready with two small repeating crossbows at the ready, pointing at two distinguished targets. Although the three in the middle appeared dangerous among a normal crowd, the surround crowd revealed they were outnumbered as they counted at least 20 pairs of inhuman eyes.

"I thought you've been here before," Isaac said, his eyes darting around to catch whoever would move first.

"Once," Jackson replied hastily. "And that was a while ago. With a car. And a boss with guards."

"Could use them about now."

When one of the blue eyed wolves moved, and the rest followed, including the middle three, a feint whistle blew. The gypsy wolves halted immediately at the dog whistle, and Isaac and Jackson instantly pulled at Colette's arms before she could fire, aiming them to the ground.

"What are you—" she began to complain when she looked to where everyone, including her company, was looking. In the back of the crowd, between one very tall and one very short man, was man who appeared to be in his seventies.

"_Comment allez-vous, Colette?"_ the old man began with a smile, making his way through the crowd with the shorter man before him.

"_Je suis heureux de vous revoir, Pitivo,"_ she replied, both Isaac and Jackson immediately exchanging a look.

"You have companions this time," the Romani alpha mused, looking specifically at Isaac.

"Were you expecting us?" Colette asked, sheathing her weapons within her bag before handing them to the shorter man, who up close looked no older than 19.

"It was in the cards." He smiled at them and patted the younger guard's shoulder. "Come, we will drink," he said after eyeing Isaac again.

…_after making their way into Pitivo's den…_

"So _domnule_ Whittemore, what brings you here?" the alpha began, his back to them as he retrieved drinking glasses, the office room shaded from the harsh light of the sun. Jackson sat up straight in the leather arm chair and shook his head.

"I'm not sure what you mean?" the blue-eyed wolf replied.

"Why are you travelling with these souls? Why follow them here?" Pitivo took his seat on the opposite side of the desk, looking at Isaac expectantly. Isaac dug out the bottle of Johnny Walker Black and handed it to him, who received it with a gaping smile.

"I…" Jackson stopped, looking at Isaac to his left. "I don't know."

"Drink. Think. Then we talk."

Jackson nodded, taking the first poured glass and sipping.

"So, _domnule_ Lahey, what can I do for you?"

"You know the answer to that," Isaac said confidently; Pitivo smiled. "There was nothing 'in the cards,' but a phone call to a German mobster." The alpha laughed, leaning back further into his chair and taking a long sip. Isaac retrieved the photo from inside his jacket and tossed it onto the desk.

"You are well connected, Mr. Lahey." He looked at the photo for a moment, glancing up only once at the curly blonde across from him. "I remember this day. There was a storm in the evening after these souls left my city. I lost two of my betas that day, including my nephew. Now his son is fatherless." He looked up at the shorter guard behind them, standing to the right of the door.

"This man, Kızılok, what did he want?" Isaac said.

"Kızılok is but a piece in a greater game, Mr. Lahey."

"What kind of game?"

"Survival," Pitivo said, nodding to Isaac's glass. The omega took a reluctant sip, not once taking his eyes off the man. "I will tell you a tale in two parts. But you must agree to tell me one as well." Isaac nodded. "About your brother." The omega breathed heavily and took a moment before nodding.

"The first is about a young kitsune, who arrived in Europe through the Silk Road. Bewildered with the foreign land, atmosphere, and people, he eventually found his way to Tyre, where he found a captain to take him west to Venice. He explored the beautiful cities of Italy: Tuscany, Milan, and Florence. In the city of da Vinci he met an alluring nymph that seduced him twice, the first out of pure enchantment and the second out of pure lust. When he awoke after the second, he no longer found himself in the city of love and freedom, no longer in the city of de'Medici. He was on a ship, imprisoned with few others—some human, some not—and guarded by a creature he had never encountered before in his journeys and he knew, upon looking into this creature's amber eyes, that his journey was at an end, his sea bound destination unknown. This demonic-looking creature would later be known as a djinn.

"The second is about a young Russian man, occultly religious and superstitious. Hungry for the magic in the darkness. Above all, his appetite is famished to become a _bodark_-a werewolf that desired to become one. In his travels, from Leningrad to Moscow to Stalingrad, he never found what he was looking for. He decided to travel east, his journey leading him towards Siberia to seek out the old indigenous peoples there. However, when he passed through Biysk in the south eastern Russian Empire, he found not an alpha, but a wretch of an eastern prince. The Dzungar prince wronged the Russian not once, but twice, and left him to die. But in his failure to slay this man, the Russian rose up in vengeance and rage as a beast of darkness: as a weretiger. He slayed the prince and his men and their animals. He enslaved the women and children and his fury drove him further into darkness to the point where the Devil himself finally revealed himself to him and they spoke, the latter pleased with what he had made and saw that it was good."

Silence filled the room for a moment, noises from the outside world only filling the void. Isaac tried to mull the man's words over, sure that they were relevant but too cryptic on their face. He needed Pitivo to piece them together. "How does these relate to Cam—"

"First, your tale, Mr. Lahey," Pitivo said with a smile.

Isaac nodded. He looked over at Jackson before meeting Pitivo's weathered eyes again. "In my sophomore year after I received the bite, my home town was attacked by a dangerous creature known as a kanima." Jackson exhaled noticeably next to him. "It killed several people, my father included. It was unlike anything I'd ever expected. Fast. Strong. Vicious. Poisonous. Even my alpha was afraid of it. Eventually we uncovered the identity of its master. He was a boy from my childhood…an old friend from elementary school. He drowned in my pool in the backyard one night and though my father revived him, he treated Matt exactly the way he treated me. He said blamed Matt for not being able to swim, rather than the older teens drinking around them, including my brother; after all, they pushed him in. No, my father punished the helpless and rewarded the strong as always. That's why he died first. Camden was spared that evening, having 'died' in the line of duty. But apparently Camden's escaped death twice now; I'm trying to find him, and bring him home."

"That seems like a very incomplete tale, Mr. Lahey."

Isaac smirked. "The hunters killed Matt and took control of the kanima. They wanted revenge for killing their daughter, who had killed many innocents related to the pack and my alpha. The cycle of hatred. We stopped them, though, and restored the kanima to its original self." Isaac turned to look at Jackson. "You're in his presence now."

The bodyguards shifted slightly behind them, but Pitivo only smiled wider. "I now know why you are here, Mr. Whittemore," the alpha said, pouring Jackson another drink. "My. Lahey, the first tale is not about the kitsune, but about the djinn. His name is Qaywud—a slaver that had Colette's brother killed." Isaac and Jackson both turned to look at her. "He is under the employ of a man named Vikenti, the biggest crime lord of the Mediterranean and a weretiger."

"The second tale…" Isaac thought aloud.

Pitivo nodded. "Barış Kızılok currently works for Vikenti, as does your brother. Vikenti is not a picky man when choosing the species of his company…only their loyalty. Your brother was merely a hired hand last I saw him. A bodyguard for a contractor. Vikenti is looking to expand his business into Bucharest, but my presence has kept most of the supernatural underground out of this city. Kızılok was sent as a threat, and I am hoping the three of you will be mine."


	5. Chapter 5

**| Part 5 |**

_Istanbul. Two weeks later…_

"I don't like this. He's been gone a while. I definitely don't like this."

"He'll be fine, Isaac," Colette said, looking through the focus of her telescopic camera lens. "He's better at this than you think."

"How do you know?" he asked, lying back on the bed, propped up by a pillow with a French novel in his hand.

"Jackson has been working for Jurgen for some time now. As Jurgen's bodyguard, that means he earned it."

Isaac looked her over before returning to his book, the sun creeping through the blinds of their third floor apartment, cracked only by the camera lens keeping watch on the streets below. "Have you been to Istanbul before?"

"Once. Before Corbin was killed."

"What happened?"

Colette didn't say anything, just continued looking through the camera, taking shots of unknown frames or targets down below, a large pistol right next to her on the desk. "Jackson is coming. He's being followed…but…super. Your friend is better than I thought."

"We're not friends."

"Tell him that. Why do you think he is here?"

This time, Isaac didn't say anything. He thought back to the meeting with Pitivo. About the kanima story, and the alpha's response. About the blip in Jackson's heartbeat back in Berlin. And then it dawned on him: Jackson was trying to come home. He wanted out of his current life.

The lock to their door shifted and before it opened Colette took ready to shoot. Jackson swore on the other side, the key clearly stuck when the French woman rolled her eyes and opened it. "You can lose a tail, but you can't open a door?" she mused. Jackson shrugged with a smirk before walking in.

"I can also sneak a few pictures. Recognize anyone?" he said, tossing the small camera on the bed before removing his shirt and walking into the bathroom.

Isaac swept it up and began scrolling through the frames, Colette peering over his shoulder. A meeting was apparently taking place. A shiny line of cars. Men armed with guns. Men being frisked. And the Colette stopped him. A tall, frighteningly ugly and brawny man got out of the car. "Qaywud," she muttered. Isaac scrolled on, more frames following the man into the building. But when the shots shifted back to the car, one man standing outside one of the other cars, leaning against it, guarding it, stood out.

"Camden."

_The next morning…_

"You clean up well, Lahey," Jackson said with a smirk. Isaac was clad in a grey suit with a dark blue tie, sitting at an outside table to a café.

"That's what I'm told," Isaac replied, a smirk of his own appearing. Jackson was standing a few feet behind him, posing as Isaac's bodyguard. "I'm don't like this idea."

"I have both of you covered," Colette said in the responders in their ears, perched on a roof a block down the street.

"That's comforting," Jackson replied. "Showtime." A black SUV pulled up a few shops down and four men got out, two staying by the car and two walking towards them. Isaac stood, reaching out his hand and shaking the hand put forward by the man in front.

"Monsieur Travere," the man said with a nod, a Russian accent coming through quite clearly.

"Comrade Moroshkin," Isaac replied with a French accent.

"I am on my way back from a meeting with a very troublesome imam so we must keep this short. I must admit, though, your call was unexpected. I was unaware Jurgen had a son, let alone one visiting Istanbul."

"My father keeps me at a distance. Business only."

"So he says."

"Between us, he regrets leaving my mother."

The man made an understanding face and nodded, retrieving a flask from inside his coat and taking a sip before offering some to Isaac. Isaac nodded and the man poured some in Isaac's coffee. "So, what brings you to Istanbul?"

"My father is looking to open a new market. Prospective changes. Expansion. He sent me here to explore the city. See all of what it has to offer." Isaac flashed him a smile.

"Your father turned down Mr. Vikenti's last offer."

"He did. Circumstances have changed, though, and now he wants to explore new options. I am to head to Lisbon and Rabat next, but given the past offer, I thought it best to show good faith by stopping here first."

The Russian nodded. "You are in Istanbul until when?"

"I leave in two days."

"Then I shall speak with my employer immediately." Moroshkin stood, Isaac following and shaking his hand. He and his bodyguard walked back towards the SUV and sped off towards the direction they came.

"You did well, Isaac," Colette said into his ear.

"Now what?" the taller beta said.

"We wait. They should set up a meeting soon—"

"If they took the bait," Jackson added.

"—and we should find your brother inside the complex."

The two werewolves began walking the opposite direction of the SUV. "How exactly do you propose we get him out of there?"

"That will be more difficult," Colette said.

_The next evening…_

Jackson stole a car.

It was a sleek black Mercedes, one that would more than pass as a crime lord's son's wheels. Isaac was impressed with how easy the motions came to his friend, maybe even amused. Jackson had definitely done this before. For the charade to look legitimate, Isaac slid into the back seat while Jackson posed as his driver and resumed his bodyguard role. When they rolled up to the organization's complex, it wasn't quite what they expected. The 14-story complex was in the heart of the city, surrounded by other bustling streets, buildings, and skyscrapers. Worse, it was crowded—the first two floors were a night club.

After the valet took the car, the pair were greeted by two Albanian men in equally classy suits. Isaac followed first, Jackson taking the rear as the guards led them through a private VIP door and up into the second floor of the club which fed immediately into the VIP lounge. The lounge hang over the second floor, allowing a grand view of all the dancers and clients. It was truly something Isaac had never seen, even with all his time in France; the club was beyond comparison to any the United States had to offer.

They didn't stop in the lounge, however. One of the guards strayed off, going to talk to one of the tables while the other led them through a door guarded by two of the larger guards they'd seen. Beyond the scene changed immediately. The staircase was concrete, damp and poorly lit. They walked up two stories and exited into a long guard and other lowlies-bustling hall with lighting only slightly better. It had once been an office building with noble intent, but now, as it was under the control of a crime lord, it had lost some of the pristine and authentic feel. The guard didn't lead them far, passing only six doors' worth (if by counting one side). He led them past and elevator and then two more doors before opening one of them.

The room was designed as a business lounge, set with couches and its own private bar. Another two guards were already inside and Isaac took a seat on his instructed chair. Jackson stood against the wall opposite the pair. "Mr. Vikenti will be with you soon," the escort said before leaving them be. Isaac waited patiently, checking his phone, trying to give off the appearance of being tirelessly busy even digitally. And his patience held out well for the first 20 minutes, but after another ten he started getting anxious and sent a message to Jackson.

_**To: Jackson**_

_\- Gonna 'find' a bathroom…check the halls for him_

Jackson read the text as it appeared over his smart lenses and shook his head. It was a stupid plan. But before Jackson could stop him the curly blonde was walking over one the guards. And Jackson smirked, or rather failed to stifle it as the guard instructed him that it was just through the door next to the bar that had gone unnoticed. Isaac walked back towards his seat, past Jackson, sneered, and entered the door to the private restroom. A few seconds after the door closed, however, the same guard seemingly touched his inner ear, nodded, said something in Russian, and opened the door behind him. A second later he was replaced and Jackson's eyes widened.

"Either of you have a cigarette and light?" Jackson said, trying to fudge a German accent, taking a step forward.

"Da," the original guard said, walking to meet him halfway. As he dug in his pockets, a jingling of keys audible, Jackson blitzed and snapped his neck.

"Wait," Jackson hurried, his American accent back, putting both hands out as the other was about to call for back up. "You're Camden Lahey, right?"


	6. Chapter 6

**| Part 6 |**

"_You're Camden Lahey, right?"_

"Who are you?" the guard replied, staying his finger from tapping his inner ear.

"My name's Jackson Whittemore. I'm with your brother, Isaac."

"Isaac?"

"Camden?" Isaac said, freezing after opening the door.

"What're you doing here?" Camden said, walking forward hastily, his tone rather perturbed.

"Cam…?"

"Isaac? What're you doing here?" Camden placed his hands on his younger brother's shoulders and shook him.

"We came looking for you," Jackson intervened. "He thought you were dead."

"It's the way I wanted it."

Jackson stood and helped lead the shocked Isaac over to the couches, forcing him to sit. "Help me get him in the bathroom." Camden nodded and they picked up the dead Albanian before dragging him into the restroom. "Explain."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," Jackson said, forcing his eyes to glow blue. Camden's turned blue as well.

"Is he…?" Jackson nodded. Camden closed his eyes and sighed before walking out. He crouched down in front of Camden and forced his brother's gaze to match with his own before forcing them to glow. Isaac immediately snapped out of it, blinking. "You need to get out of here. This is a dangerous place."

"I know," Isaac replied.

"If they discover who you really are—"

"I'm bringing you home."

"Isaac—"

"Dad's gone. And mom. You can come home. Please."

"I can't."

"We have a plan."

"Camden," Jackson began, appearing behind Isaac, "come with us. You might get him killed if you don't. Trust us."

"If my boss—" He stopped himself this time. Isaac reached out and poked his nose, a joke between them rekindling their bond. He simply nodded.

Jackson immediately tapped the comm inside his ear. "Code Hawk. I repeat, Code Hawk."

"Copy," Colette replied and a few seconds later there was an explosion.

"Get ready to move," Jackson said. The Lahey brothers stood and gathered near the door. "We'll go first. Count to two and follow." Camden nodded. "Oh, and for your cover," Jackson said before jabbing two claws in his shoulder.

Camden immediately stifled a cry and Isaac punched Jackson's own shoulder hard. Jackson shrugged and then opened the door when the gunfire and screams began. Jackson continued the charade, moving to shield Isaac as they moved through the bustling hall, most of the men armed. They moved quickly towards the end of the hall, towards the staircase they came up through. Isaac peered back and there was Camden, following as promised.

After flowing through the crowd, and then blending in with the crowd, Jackson and Isaac slipped away from the main stream of people. Camden was hot on their heels and after only a minute's walk, and declaring they hadn't been followed, they came upon a second car. They clambered in and Jackson started it after tapping his comm again. "We're clear."

"I will meet you at the rendezvous."

"Copy." Jackson took off, quickly finding the flow of traffic to be a nice cover and in an only a few minutes they were on D100 heading west out of Istanbul.

At first, the silence threatened to continue all the way to Alexandroupolis, but this time Isaac didn't shut down. "What happened, Camden?"

"How did you find me?" Camden replied. He was sitting with his arms crossed in the back, staring out the window.

Isaac dug the photo out of his pocket and held it back. "I know someone who knows someone who knows someone. What happened?"

"I don't wanna' talk about it."

"Fuck you, Camden. I buried you!"

"Calm down," Jackson said, flashing his blues at Isaac's yellows.

Camden actually sighed a little—relief. "They're still yellow." Isaac turned back to face the front, he, too, looking out the window now. "Isaac, it's…it happened during combat." Isaac's body didn't loosen at all. "Isaac, please."

_Several hours later…_

The three younger men were sitting in a terminal of Alexandroupolis International Airport, waiting for their flight and Colette to call. The brothers hadn't spoke at all and Jackson barely got any full sentences out of either of them. Jackson's phone finally buzzed and he got up and walked away to take the call. "A couple of the guys," Camden began, staring off at the ground as if in a trance; Isaac turned to look at him. "Jesse and Marco. They, ugh, they were in my squad. We were close. The lieutenant, he ugh, he led us through an alley in Muqdadiyah. We were getting ready to infiltrate when Marco…he, ugh, he changed. He had these bones…all over his body. He killed the lieutenant, and then Hadrian. He turned on me, taking a gash out of my arm when someone came crashing down on him from above. He was an Iraqi but he…he looked different. Transformed."

"Like a werewolf?"

"Like a jackal. A werejackal." Camden paused for a moment and Isaac only continued to stare, as if listening with his eyes. "An entire pack of them dropped down. They fought Marco first. Killed him. Ripped his skull mask off and he disintegrated. Then Jesse. They reared on me. Their leader offered me a gift—life—in exchange for information. I took it. And I ran."

Camden was almost crying now, though his gaze hadn't once shifted. "It's okay."

"I betrayed my country, Isaac." The lid-dams broke and he closed his eyes, forcing a few more tears to fall. "I was scared. In the moment I needed to be brave I was scared. I was gonna' die. And I chose the coward's way out."

"Hey," Isaac said, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder. "You're alive. Fuck the country, you're alive and to me, that means I'm not alone." Camden finally turned to look at him. "I've been in hell ever since you left. I…" He stopped, not able to rehash it all again. "I've lost too many people. To have one back…I just…" Isaac's eyes started to water and Camden nodded before pulling his brother into a hug.

"We need to be ready to go," Jackson interrupted, walking up.

"What's wrong?" Isaac asked.

"That was Jurgen. Vikenti threatened him, said he was gonna' find 'his son.' He's looking for us. It won't take him long…we need to get outta' here."


End file.
